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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411863">I miss you like a home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplusbellemusique/pseuds/maplusbellemusique'>maplusbellemusique</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>WTFock | Skam (Belgium)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(english isn’t my first language so this might have some mistakes), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and this is heavily influenced by red white &amp; royal blue, it’s during quarantine, they just love each other so much</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:16:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplusbellemusique/pseuds/maplusbellemusique</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbe mentions how much he loves the idea of lovers sending letters to each other to Sander, and then they start a tradition.<br/>Or, Sander and Robbe spend a few weeks apart during quarantine and the romantic sap on Robbe jumps out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I miss you like a home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, it could be worse.” Sander says, trying to cheer Robbe up. They’re FaceTiming, and he can see in Robbe’s doe eyes that he’s not okay. Quarantine has been hard for both of them.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah! At least we can facetime each other and see each other’s faces every day! If we were a couple centuries ago, this would be impossible.”</p><p>“A lot of other thing would be impossible if we were a couple centuries ago.” Robbe says quietly.</p><p>“And we would have to communicate through letters or some shit like that.”</p><p>“You do have a point.” He smiles, and Sander feels butterflies all over his body. Sander loses his track of thought for a moment, but then he says, just as quietly, “I do.”</p><p>“But, you know. I kinda wish people still wrote letters to each other like that, it seems so romantic.” </p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>“Yeah, I kinda like the idea,” Robbe pauses for a second, “Maybe we could try that...” He looks away from Sander and looks down to his hands.</p><p>“Who would’ve thought you’re just as a hopeless romantic as I am?” </p><p>Robbe says, “Shut up, Sander,” and his laugh sounds too endearing for his statement be taken seriously.</p><p>“I am truly shocked.” Sander is laughing too.</p><p>“Shut up!” Robbe throws a pillow at this phone, and he’s smiling quite too much for someone who’s mad.</p><p>“That pillow can’t reach me, baby.” Sander says softly. In another universe, they’re having a pillow fight right now and covid-19 never existed. He wishes they were in that universe.</p><p>“I know. I wish it could.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>They keep talking and giggling and looking at each other for a few more hours. Robbe hangs up when his mom calls him for dinner. Sander, on the other side, doesn’t have anything to do, so he stays in bed thinking about Robbe and about their call. Specifically, about the love letter thing. He realized that he agrees with his boyfriend; it would be such a romantic gesture to do, and Sander lives by romantic gestures. So, he plans on sending Robbe an email the next morning. </p><p>His night is dedicated to researching about old love letters and he is amazed by how love has always been here, and it didn’t change a thing. Sander researches more deeply about same sex couples and the letters they used to send to each other, and, when the tears wet his face, he wasn’t expecting them.</p><p>But how could he not get emotional? All these people, all these lovers who had to hide themselves because of defaults and prejudice. Fuck the defaults and the prejudice. He’s amazed by how LGBT people have always been here, and always will. And, against all odds, they always found each other and survived.</p><p>All of this makes him think of history, and how everything lead to him falling in love with Robbe. He’s sure they would found each other and fall in love over and over again.<br/>
—<br/>
To: Robbe Ijzermans<br/>
From: Sander Driesen<br/>
Subject: Love letters</p><p>Hi, angel.</p><p>I can’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday, about the letters. So, I figured we should try that! But, unfortunately, I have little to no idea about how the mail works during quarantine; so, maybe, we could do it through emails. Of course, I’ll still call you. Of course, I’ll still text you. I don’t think I could survive a single day without hearing your voice. The e-mails could be an extra thing, right? Just something else to make the distance less hurtful.</p><p>So I’ve been reading old letters for a few hours and it’s crazy how most of them made me think of you. But there’s this one, from Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf, that hits home. </p><p>“With me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.”</p><p>Love, Sander.<br/>
—<br/>
Robbe calls him a few minutes after the e-mail is sent. </p><p>“Sander!” He shouts, and Sander can hear the smile in his voice.</p><p>He would be worried about Robbe shouting his name, but he figures he wouldn’t be sounding so happy if he was mad. So he says “Hey, cutie,” quickly, like the greeting belongs to him. And it kinda does.</p><p>“I can’t believe you”</p><p>“I think you read the e-mail already?” It’s a rhetorical question, but he needs to be sure.</p><p>“Yeah! I love it. And I hate it. ‘Cause now I miss you even more.”</p><p>“Same here. Counting down the days.”</p><p>“Me too. But, hey, I have to properly respond to you now. I’m going to find a even more romantic letter.”</p><p>“So now this is a competition?”</p><p>“It’s always a competition, baby.”</p><p>“Then I’m winning.”</p><p>“No!” Robbe says playfully, and Sander loves the excitement in his voice.</p><p>“Yes. I’m winning.” Sander keeps teasing him, but he knows he is being serious. When it comes to loving Robbe, he would always win.</p><p>“Not for too long.  Bye, love you.”</p><p>“Love you too. I’m still winning though!”<br/>
—<br/>
To: Sander Driesen<br/>
From: Robbe Ijzermans<br/>
Subject: I win</p><p>I found it! I found an even better and more romantic letter. It’s from Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky. I have no idea of who they are, but look:</p><p>“Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back, honey, &amp; think of me.”</p><p>I do miss you like a home. But, even with the distance, I get to spend my days knowing that I have a home in you, and that you think of me too. </p><p>This sounds way too cheesy, right? But I don’t care. It’s true, and being this far away from you is driving me crazy. I long for your touch and for your kisses, I ache for the moment when I’ll be able to hold you in my arms again. Only then I’ll be truly happy and full.</p><p>So. Who’s winning now, huh?<br/>
—<br/>
Sander doesn’t hesitate to open the e-mail when he receives it, but he doesn’t call Robbe right away. Instead, he tries to take in what he just read. It’s just a few short paragraphs, yes. It might be silly, yes. But Sander loves this boy so much, and longs for him even more. </p><p>He wants to touch, to kiss kim and to hear his voice; he wants to feel Robbe. Preferably, he wants to feel Robbe all over his body and on his bed. But right now, he can’t do that. The best thing he can get is hearing Robbe’s voice, so he calls him.</p><p>Robbe picks up, “Hey,” and it hurts not being able to kiss him.</p><p>“You’re sweet,” Sander says, because it’s true.</p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>“But you’re still not winning.”</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“You don’t know how to properly write emails, you know. There has to be greetings and some sort of signature at the end.”</p><p>“I don’t really care about that.”</p><p>“Honestly, me neither. But if it makes me win...”</p><p>Robbe giggles and says “Stop that!,” a pause. And then “But, if it weren’t for the greetings thing, would I win?” </p><p>“Barely.”</p><p>“Ha!” More giggles, from both of them. Sander wishes he could save this moments for later, for when he’s hurting and needs reminding of the good minutes.</p><p>After they hang up, Sander is focused on writing a new email.<br/>
—<br/>
To: Robbe Ijzermans<br/>
From: Sander Driesen<br/>
Subject: Love letters</p><p>Hi, baby.</p><p>“I know for sure that I’ll forget your name the day I forget the food I eat; in fact, I could sooner forget my food, which nourishes only the body, than your name, which nourishes body and soul, and fills both with such sweetness that I can feel no pain nor fear of death while my mind remembers it. Imagine how happy I would be if my eye also had its share.”</p><p>It’s from Michelangelo to Tommaso Cavalieri, and now, dedicated from me to you.</p><p>You, Robbe, engross my thoughts too much for me to think of anything else. I can’t name a single thing in my life that’s more important than you; and, maybe, this should be scary, loving someone this much. But it isn’t. It’s simple, actually: you make me not scared of love. And it’s so comforting knowing that you love me just as much. So, thank you. </p><p>I don’t see how this could have a loser, actually; when it comes to you and me, and us loving each other, we both win.</p><p>Love, Sander.<br/>
—<br/>
He doesn’t get a call until half an hour later. Robbe FaceTimes him and his eyes are shining.</p><p>Sander greets him, “Hey,” already feeling his eyes watering too.</p><p>“Sander,” Robbe is laying in bed and his voice is a little shaky and hoarse.</p><p>And then, silence.</p><p>Sander looks deeply into Robbe’s doe eyes, and he doesn’t understand how brown isn’t considered the prettiest eye color. Even through the camera, he can still see the comfort and the love shining out of Robbe’s iris. How could someone like boring blue or green rather than this? </p><p>Robbe is so full of love, he doesn’t think he could even eat. He knows Sander’s words will always stay at the back of his mind, making him feel loved and safe. How can this boy love him this much? If he could, he would print Sander’s e-mail and frame it right above his bed. Maybe he will.</p><p>They keep looking at each other. And looking and looking and looking, not getting bored for a single second.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you if you read until here! english isn’t my first language, so i’m sorry for the grammar mistakes.<br/>(writing the fic actually took a while and yet i’m really insecure about it, so i would appreciate kudos and comments so much 🥺)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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